So, the plan was simple and seemed clear as mud. We get a little trailer, make the necessary modifications and put the whole office in it to live for long stretches as journalists at large. I mean, what could be better than never having to go home again, right? Well, the reality of living in a 19 foot mobile command center was staunchly opposed to the much exaggerated version I had in my head.
The first part started off great, we got a killer deal from Sonny at Butler Pre- Owned on a nice used unit so we could test the waters, we converted the jack knife sofa area into a little L shaped desk for two. We ran out an did all the hokey pokey shit and bought all the fun little travel goodies that had us stocked up and ready. Mind you dear reader, during all of this only one of us would be in the trailer at once.
So, fast forward to our beloved moto-family, which now consists of Me, Heather and the dog since Killer is off at college, traveling south, ever closer to Daytona and our first attempt at putting this all into action. Getting used to hauling was fine since we air bagged the Sprinter but it was still a little too sketchy to let Heather drive just yet, so I stayed in the captains chair. No big deal, when we got tired near the border of South Carolina, we just pulled over and got into the trailer to slept on a real bed. This alone was worth the price of the camper! I swear to God one more time I had to sleep in the drivers seat of my truck only to wake up with an indentation from the steering wheel in my forehead and without the ability to stand fully erect for a few hours was gonna kill me.
The next morning, or what was actually four hours later, “we broke camp” to head on. This was as good a time as any to get the antifreeze out of the water system and make sure we were all set. Of course, as I sat at the truck stop dump station I was overwhelmed with the need to recreate the scene from National Lampoons… Shitter’s full. Heather loves this stuff, I think that’s what it means when she rolls her eyes and walks away mumbling.
Our holiday road came to an end once we hit the spot we were parking for the week in Daytona. From this point on I would start to question everything about tiny house living, my own sanity and whether or not having all this shit with me was any better than when I used to come to the rallies on my bike and just sleep in the Wall Of Death. From day one, no matter what else we would have going on, in the background the ominous question would pop out from time to time “Do we have any water yet?” This is a big deal on some primal level that we must feel having water is directly connected to our survival and without it we will surely die.
And right there it happened, it was this exact difference of priorities that started a little friction. I was more concerned with getting the Panhead ready to ride and Heather was pissed about the water. Since we are both masters in smart assery, the games began. Throw in the fact that neither of us are well versed in the care and operation of a mobile home alot of fun came from late nights of reading manuals, swearing loudly at inanimate objects for short stints where one of us would take a time out in what became known as the other room: outside. The fridge wasn’t getting cold, I couldn’t get the damn bedroom TV working and again, every once in a while… “Do we have water yet?” came out of nowhere.
Little things that were broken or didn’t quite work the way we had planned them became focus points that boiled over quickly. I soon began to realize a few simple facts: this trailer was too small, the dog is too fat and always on my side of the bed and finally, I have room to learn more patience.
Two days later the Pan was running great, the fridge was cold and we had adjusted enough in our tiny house to settle in nicely. We sat back to watch a movie on the bedroom TV that was working great, after a delicious dinner Heather made using the water that we now had and within minutes we fell asleep in each others arms. Ok, that last part was a little stretch. We fell asleep as close to each other as we could with the dogs fat ass wedged between us, but the point is, we were in love again and the tiny house isn’t that tiny for now.
